Severus Snape's Predictably Inexplicable Trial
by Balos
Summary: Severus's life has had its strange moments. He has personally been attacked by a werewolf. He was the youngest potions master. He can fly. He is a spy, frequently trusted by both sides. But even he didn't expect his war crimes trial to be this peculiar.
1. Chapter 1

**Severus Snape and His Predictably Inexplicable Trial**

**Summary:**

Severus's life had always had its strange moments. He has personally been attacked by a werewolf. He can fly without a broom. He was the youngest ever to get potions mastery and become a Hogwarts Professor. He is a master spy, trusted by both inner-circles. But even he didn't expect his war crimes trial to be this bizarre.

**Disclaimer:**

Standard. I own no part of Rowling's characters/universe/etc.

This is my first story so don't expect miracles!

**Notes on my AU:**

Here Snape survived the snake attack and is hence delivered to the mercy of the Ministry of Magic justice system.

I believe that since Snape knew he was going to battle with Nagini, he would have had the Arthur Weasley antidote and a strong beozer already ingested.

Plus all wizards, or at least the smart ones, would have a standard battle potions kit that would certainly address the top 10 ways wizards die in battle. For example, if the leading cause of death is blood loss from a cutting curse or explosion of some type. _Fender's Elixir for Lion Tamers_ is generally recommended as the preventative for this by the International Guild of Peaceful Potion Masters although they warn that blood replenishers must be administered within six hours.

Snape could have easily covered the suffocation threat category by an especially fresh does of _Beatty's Skin Breathing Potion_, which was a potion he found when researching for Harry's second task in the Tri-wiz. Snape wouldn't have had the obscure Mediterranean herb 'gillyweed' in his stores if he hadn't been practicing brewing this skin breathing potion.

The _Inner Organ Liquid life Jackets_ potion was the standard suggestion against being crushed (all or in part) but Snape preferred his own wickedly complex potion; _Severus Snape's Stasis Shock Stopper _because it covered a much wider range of situations where he was in deep, deep trouble. He argued that it was true that wizards (Gryffindors) could actively fight longer with the Liquid Life Jacket. However, the large amounts of dittany in the life jacket potion made the application of most class 2 or above healing potions after the battle dicey at best. As a Slytherin he would rather play dead and so that he may snatch at victory on a different day.

The larger point is that there are a finite number of threats for which Snape could easily predict and were easily avoided for a wizard and potion master of his caliber. Snape believed it was inevitable that his death would come just as quickly (and probably more painfully) from a threat he couldn't predict, but at least he would not be embarrassed.

And just because he didn't expect to survive the war didn't mean he didn't have an obligation to try. And just because everybody was calling this "the final battle", it didn't guarantee that it was. And just because he had fought to hang on to the world with only his bloody finger nails and toes and teeth for 20 years doesn't mean he wasn't going to fail now.

However, the snake's poison was enough to throw him into stasis and that is what Harry saw when he thought he saw him die. And for this story's purposes, Shape was retrieved, healed and then sent to Azkaban to await being executed and tried.


	2. Chapter 2:  Justice for Dummies

**Severus Snape's Predictably Inexplicable Trial**

Chapter 2: Justice for Dummies

I own no part of Rowling's characters/universe/etc.

The main courtroom (or theater as Severus had always called it) was filled as if for a royal wedding. Severus Snape was chained in the center of the stage wearing a wide stripped prisoner's robe. He stretched up out of his chair just a little bit and leaned left just a little bit farther, ignoring the painfully tightening chains, so that he could put his face into an air current that was just strong enough to blow most of the stink of prison out of his nose. He sucked in deep breath after deep breath of Ministry of Magic air while his mind idly identified smells; everything from bat wings to wood smoke to sex. He found the exact source of 'sex' smell and he gave the couple a knowing look. The two Ravenclaws hadn't been in his classes for 3 years, but they still cringed comically confirming Snape's conclusion. Snape was extraordinarily pleased by this. He had spent years training his nose like an opera singer trains their voice. He had performed more than a few rituals, a few of them rather dark and dangerous. But, he had given up any hope of ever using this skill again after one day of the watermelon tinged acidic air in that hell they call Azkaban Prison.

The prosecutor for the Ministry caught his eye as he left his station and went and stood before the Wizigmont. "Your Honor, the prosecution contends that Severus Snape is simply a death eater and is just not a strong enough wizard to be the spy he claims he was for 20 years. Everybody knows potion masters are never strong wizards and the fact that Headmaster Dumbledore refused Snape the defense position for 20 years shouts out this truth of Snape's inadequacies on other areas of magic. I further believe that in the end, the great Headmaster Dumbledore only gave the DADA position to Death Eater Snape in order to trigger the DADA curse and thereby remove Snape from the castle permanently!"

Severus lost interest in the proceeding as soon as the prosecutor started talking. It was nice to sit in the court room, in the fresh air, embarrassing teenagers about sex and dreaming a futile dream about having a future where he got to smell interesting things. He knew the odds of him surviving one week past this trial were nil. When he was at Azkaban he had been quite ready for his life to be over, but here in the warm courtroom, where only about 95% of the people around really, really hated him; life was quite acceptable.

Hermione was quick to jump to her feet, "Your Honor, the prosecution has also charged Professor Snape with the craven, pre-meditated murder of Headmaster Dumbledore. The prosecution cannot have it both ways, either Snape is strong enough to kill the most powerful wizard of our time and therefore also powerful enough to be a successful spy, and therefore innocent of all charges or Snape is not powerful enough to kill Headmaster Dumbledore or be a spy or quite frankly at the power level you claim for him, he wouldn't even be a very good death eater.

The judge stupidly scratched his head and motioned for both consolers to approach the bench.

In order for Snape to have his nose in the strong air current, he had to view a small portion of the packed audience. Once Harry Potter realized what Snape was doing, he moved into that part of the court room and was sitting there mouthing something like "I'm going to kill you" any time he could get Snape to catch his eye.

"Stupid boy. Ignorant boy." Snape thought. "At least I was able to keep him alive until he did his part."

Severus was surprised when the chair's shackles were undone and his walking shackles were put back on. He had thought they still had a few hours left in session. He would miss his air current. The guards, Donaldson and Gilliam had been Gryffindor's a decade ago. And surprise, surprise, they just happened to be extraordinary sadistic. At Hogwarts they had been best buds and had enjoyed themselves sticking it to any Hufflepuff that wasn't quick enough to get out of their way. Snape thought that they had found the perfect jobs as ministry bailiffs. They could still be bully's together and still dress in red uniforms and still be rewarded for being openly cruel. What more could a Gryffindor want?

What he wouldn't give to really stretch his body out, to briskly walk down the hall between his office and quarters while his robes flew behind. Fresh dungeon air and a brisk pace. Who know those were some of the most import things in the universe? Well, behind clean underwear. The guards had the ability to tighten the chains down, so of course they did while they laughed and smacked each other with glee. The guards didn't think it was a good session until they had him hog tied on the ground 2 or 3 times between the court room and his ministry cell. They found that quite funny, "Still, it beats Azkaban!" Severus thought, he was less bruised there, but the smells more than made up for it.

An hour later Hermione was escorted into his cell and she handed him the plea bargain. Snape was surprised he had been distracted so thoroughly with his air current that he didn't know this was coming. The scrolls were printed on very expensive paper and even the ink smelled nice. It smelled like the parents of one of his snakes writing him a message. He started to think something like "Those were the days" but realized just how ignorant that was after only two words.

"Basically the plea bargain," she said, jerking him back to the present. "It comes down to strength." Hermione had started talking before she had finished walking into the cell as a way to avoid feeling in the small dark rectangular. He had not asked how it had come about that she was representing him, but he was thankful to the point that he was thinking about some way to complement her on something before he died.

She continued being very careful not to take too deep a breadth, "They claimed that for you and Albus to have the relationship that you claim, not only must you have been a master spy, but you must have been in same basic class of wizard as Albus himself. Even the more reasonable members know that Albus would not have trusted what he did to you if you were not in the same ballpark mentally, magically and morally. These are things they can measure. Albus's scores on the _Standardized Sorcerer's Test_ (SST) are well documented. So the Ministry is going to administer the SST to you."

The Standardized Sorcery's Test was so dangerous that very few people bothered unless they were going for a high public magic office. Every Hogwarts headmaster had taken it and generals and head aurors, but very few others. Snape remembered Albus telling many stories of his SST, most of which had included a long litany of injuries. Like most candidates, Albus had barely survived. It wasn't as bad as it sounded at the surface. The SST's were supposed to cover things like survivability and a high powered sorcerer had better be very good at it, so a few months recovering just wasn't that big a deal.

Snap's cynical whisper filled the tense silence of the cell. "Oh this is rich. It is even better theater than the trial! So, I take the SST and if I don't die … and that is a big if. But, if I don't die taking the tests, but fail to reach Albus's record setting score, the ministry executes me. My guess is that the ministry presumed that people could come to see the tests and stay for the execution."

Snape's mind whirled with all the ways this could play out as he rubbed the bridge of his noise. "Most wizards take a year to prepare for their SSTs, not to mention six months to heal. Potion Masters generally take two so they can have all their battle potions pre-brewed and tested. There are typically one to two hundred items that are negotiated before an SST is staged. Everything from the number of levels, breaks and healers to the small detail of exactly who is going to be hired to fight against me!"

Hermione looked at him sadly. "You are taking the Auror version and the ministry selected all the hardest SST options."

It broke Hermione's heart to see his expression and so she rapidly moved on "But your three prep days are under house arrest in at Hogwarts. You get to go home. You get three days of peace. And you can speak to the press before, during and after the test. Well, I wouldn't count on after. And you can go down swinging. Although I think you deserve all the same medals and accolades as Harry, that doesn't seem to be what I could get you. So I got you three days peace at Hogwarts, an opportunity for you to choose your own poison and perhaps a small, small chance to survive."

Severus quickly raised his head and looked Hermione in the eyes. His elegant voice was rough with feelings. "Hogwarts! You underestimate yourself. You got me everything. This is more than adequate chance." Snape drew himself up with pride for the first time since his adventures with Wizarding Penal Codes had started. "I should be disqualified as a Slytherin if this wasn't enough."

Snape ran Hermione breathless with his questions. Turns out he couldn't have his old battle robe because they had (wisely) thrown it into a lava field. They would give him his wand back, but only once he was at Hogwarts. He could brew new or buy the 10 potions he could bring in, but the ministry was not releasing any of his assets, including his vault key. Especially not his vault key. The details of the SST Contract were being sent to Hogwarts along with the latest version of the most popular guidebook for the tests; End Your Career Crisis with the SSTs, by Willy Widdershins. The reason they trusted Snape not to run because Harry Potter had guaranteed his honor. "Wait. What?"

Baliffs Donaldson and Gilliam came back and smiled their cruel smile as they tightened down no less than 7 magical chains. Each chain had to be applied, tested, adjusted, tested and secured multiple times. They had him hobbling around his cell in less than ten minutes, but then decided to redo the process just to be sure. Hermione was tapping her toes and was wondering if she had enough popular support right now that she could just hex these guys. But they were watching for that and when she finally started to caress her wand she was promptly escorted off ministry properties for the rest of the day and then the real process to "prepare" Snape for the contest and the three days at Hogwarts began. Finally they had Snape conscience and chained almost every way that he could be chained and without leaving the cell, were port keyed directly to the Hogwarts gate.

All in all it was four hours and sixty-four "falls" before Snape made the castle door.


	3. Chapter 3: Seven Thousand Roads

I own no part of Rowling's characters/universe/etc.

**Severus Snape's Predictably Inexplicable Trial**

**Chapter 2: ****Seven Thousand Roads**

...ooOo0oOoo…

The Ministry Guards maliciously tossed both Snape and his wand deep into Snape's dungeon office. As the grand arched door sealed behind him, Snape was surrounded by quiet for the first time since the final battle. He let it rain down upon him and tried to force his skin to soak it in. . He was helped in this quest to take a minute and absorb it all by the fact that there wasn't much else he could do. Donaldson and Gilliam had pushed him in without unlocking his shackles. "Of course they did." He thought mentally slapping his forehead. "Three days at Hogwarts does not mean three days lounging in front of the fire, un-shackled in my quarters at Hogwarts! What was I thinking? At least they are letting me stay conscience. At least so far."

The silence was ripped to shreds by at least 100 house elves popping in. "OH! Wez can clean! Wez can clean!"

Snape had designed his wards so that getting through the first 5 to 10 layers wouldn't be that hard. It was certainly doable anyway. But 48 hours later his rooms would go into shutdown and nobody was getting in, not even a house elf. His theory was that the enemy would break in and have time for a minimal search. They wouldn't find anything too huge because the huge things were warded separately. But the next time his enemies turned around they would find they had lost all access. Then they had to decide if it was worth the extreme outlay of magical energy necessary to get back in to what seemed like a cleared area or just trust they had seem everything and move on.

When his trial hadn't included any charges for dark potions or ingredients he knew his wards had held. Now that they had Snape back in the castle they would get another shot at his caches. With Snape in the rooms, his wards wouldn't reset and they could take their time or torture him into bringing down his own wards. He was Slytherin enough to know that the Ministry was playing a deep game with him. He just didn't know what it was. They were taking a chance with letting him near his the wand though. After Hermione was thrown out his cell in the ministry holding blocks, he had mentally cataloged what curses his guards had hit him with, well at least when he was conscience. Hopefully they could all be undone before they caused too many problems.

The house elves were singing and dancing around by sticking their butt on and wiggling it back and forth now that they finally could get in here. They would circle a particular trashed area and holding hands and flapping their bat ears. Snape was fighting not laugh out loud because he didn't want to hurt their feelings (and because the place really was trashed.) Snape bet that 99% of the people who ever attended Hogwarts would not believe that Severus Snape was polite to House Elves. No, Snape was too malicious, too demanding, too impatient to appreciate house elves. But standing as he was, bound but relatively comfortable (warm, bruised but not bleeding badly and with relatively clean underwear), Snape had an epiphany.

He no longer had a need to be *that* guy.

His life had narrowed a thousand percent when he got the dark mark in 1978. The whole school had a pretty good idea that Snape and his buddies were Death Eaters and they had a pretty good idea what that meant. The wizarding world was not so very vast. Every time the Dark Lord killed a blood traitor or two, the whole community knew within hours. In his Seventh year there were times when Snape could walk down a hallway and ALL the traffic before him would disappear as the kids ran away in fear. Sometimes Snape would look over his shoulder forgetting that he was the one everybody was afraid of.

Snape was one of the Dark Lords few trusted brains. Through the Dark Lord's support and patronage he became the second youngest potions master ever. He had been worried about accepting the help until the Dark Lord told him that he wanted Snape to focus on healing since healers were always a rarity in a Dark Army. The Dark Lord wanted a dark healing potion that was stronger and faster than anything out there. And he wanted it be administered with just a few drops under the tongue. Snape happily accepted his directive and disappeared into his lab which was a thing of beauty. The Dark Lord had gifted him with every piece of equipment, every stirrer, every type of cauldron, etc. And his ingredient cabinets were to die for (and thinking back, probably quite a few people did die to fill them.) Snape was directly held up as a blinding example to the wizard world as to the largess of Voldemort. There was room in the Dark Army, even for half-bloods, if they were talented enough. It was heady stuff for Severus and these years were his happiest years but at the time he hadn't realized he had taken a suckers bet.

After his mastery was received the Dark Lord started systematically working on corrupting him. One cold snowy evening, Snape was called into battle and before that Snape was never called into battle. He and Voldemort stood on top of an grey stone church, outlined by a full moon and the soft colors of Voldemort's ever present and shifting magic shields. This was the first time Snape was called to stand on the Dark Lords left hand and it marked the end to himself as he knew himself.

They watched as family after family was slaughtered. The Death Eaters had divided the victims into Team Blond and Team Brunette and were holding some kind of contest around blood splatter distance or something. Snape had managed to cast a very slight 'Pacific Totatiatus' on his own face so that he would not alert the Dark Lord to his distress. But the Dark Lord was aware and somewhat amused by it all.

"Ah. It is good to see people that love what they do." Voldemort hadn't looked at Snape and yet he knew that the Dark Lord was singularly focused on him.

"Severus, do you like what you do? Would you like to do more?"

Snape's head shot up with some hope that had somehow survived watching the torture play on in the village. "My fondest dream is to serve you as an alchemist, my lord."

Voldemort smiled an eerie greedy smile. "Someday I may allow this. But first my servant, but first you must earn the wondrous favors I have already bestowed upon you."

Voldemort pointed to the killing grounds below. "Collect their organs and feed my snake." Voldemort hissed to Snape out of nowhere. "All of the filthy muggles, dead or alive are to contribute. And, Severus, I insist you use the '_Aulabibi_' spell". (Literally 'temple suck').

The Dark Lord paused for a second for that to sink in. "Yes, Severus, I want your magical essence to be deliciously dark and strong still when the aurors arrive to clean up."

Voldemort finally turned around and brought his wand only inches away from Snape's white mask. "It wouldn't do," the Dark Lord had said "to have an independent alchemist."

"Yes, my Lord" mumbled Snape.

Right then and right here, Snape had narrowed his own life down another thousand percent. He knew Voldemort would not let it rest until he had overpowered Snape's soul. So Snape got serious and started a crash course on all the magic mental disciplines. He had started taking a ridiculously strong sexual suppressant because he knew having to rape was obviously around the corner. He figured that being impotent and needed his 'purity' for some potions might be enough of an excuse. The ability to brew the purity potions would turn out to be the thing that turned the war towards the light but he wouldn't know about that for a few years yet.

Snape hadn't been able to figure out a way that he could avoid torturing people. He supposed that if he broke his victim's top vertebra, they would lose all feeling in their body and hence not be able to feel the torture. And if he would break their neck while implanting a vision of rats eating their nipples or something, he could get realistic screams. Adding an animation spell or two on the limbs for accurate flailing was impressive. And then some fake blood slinging around and he was set until he could send a painless AK and then his day at the office was done. It hadn't dawned on him until years later that his goal of avoiding torture had been thoroughly and completely missed. His puppet-master act was just as bad as McNair, if not worse.

Then he herd the prophesy and soon after thankfully became a spy and his life narrowed down another thousand percent. Regular Death Eaters could make a mistake or two and the Dark Lord would just crucio you for it and it was over. But as a spy, he had damn well never really make a mistake, never really give the Dark Lord an excuse to tear into his mind or he would be over. Albus began teaching him the skills needed for role, although Albus never said where he had learned them. Snape was so driven and worked so hard that he got almost everything on the first or second try. Albus would want to talk about candy or classes or the weather and Snape would talk about magical theory. Albus would tell him to lighten up and Snape would talk about magical theory. Albus would try and trick Snape into taking an afternoon off and Snape would talk about magical theory.

While Snape incessantly worked on mastering every potion, every book, every scroll he would occasionally, very occasionally, be happy. And he was most happy in his little run down personal lab at Hogwarts. In general, he wasn't distracted by sex, a family, or a lover or really any social interactions other than Albus. Snape struggled mightily bringing his physical body under control and develop a spy's reflexes and a spy's normal modes of stealth and beyond stealth. He didn't let pain or fear or legality or lightness of magic hinder his progress. Mostly he worked on endurance.

He was, after all, a full professor of a mandatory course in the most labor intensive disciple there was. Minerva never had to brew bases or antidotes before teaching her fifth year students how to turn a hook into a book. (Strong, singular metal construct into organic multi-part, multi-material and fragile.) He was Slytherin Head of House with all the political intrigues and behind closed doors infighting. He brewed all the potions for Madam Pomphrey, which included lots of secret antidotes she could pass along to St. Mungos. Not only was he a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he was their spy. And not only was he their spy, he also seemed to be Albus' go-to guy, even when it could mean exposing himself to Voldemort. He was also a Death Eater and Voldemort's personal potion brewer. And like all other members of The Potion's Guild, he learned he had to publish some of his research information or his benefits from the guild would fade away, and blast it, he really needed the boosted apothecary service program.

So that meant he spent a year or two blurry eyed and smelling slightly of blood from his last illegal ritual. Albus had promised that if Snape did become mentally unstable, Albus would kill him himself. Snape made a reciprocal promise. Over the years he would occasionally have nightmares about that promise. Especially since Albus wasn't one to act mentally stable at the best of times.

One year on the second day of the term, Albus wore a lime colored robe with bright blue Cornish Pixies to breakfast. Albus started madly giggling and crying and giggling and this caused was such total fear and chaos for the students because if the Headmaster went crazy what would happen to their world? Snape had to physically grab the prefects and evicted all the children from the hall there was so much fear. He then joined Fillias, Minerva then in casting diagnostic spells. Eventually Albus recovered enough to admit that he had been made helpless by the pixies tickling him. Of course it didn't stop Albus from wearing that robe again and again. Snape ended it one staff meeting when he got fed up and melted the robe into a puddle of bright blue goo. After all there are some advantages to being considered a dark and dangerous wizard, and if melting an obnoxious pixie robe wasn't one of them, then Snape would kiss a Gryffindor.

Then Albus started making Snape a one man morality play against dark magic. The students would whisper, "If you go dark, you'll turn out just like Snape!" Because he was a spy he couldn't tell his students "Don't become a death eater". All he could do is make it look really bad. And they bought it! Greasy hair! Really! Like a Potion Master wouldn't know something, maybe a potion, which would fix that. The colored finger tips were always fun to apply. Like a Potion Master would risk one of his elixirs to cross contamination. Let's see. Cruel – check. Alone – check. Ugly – check. Poor – check. Bitter – check. Petty - check. Unloved and unlovable – check. Greasy git – check and mate. Over the years this became less of a character he played and more how he (and the world, even Albus) described all things Snape.

BUT SNAPE WAS NO LONGER *THAT* GUY.

But what guy was he? By his count he had doubled down or "narrowed his focus" at least seven times. To die as himself he needed to reclaim those layers. He shook his head. "How do you make your life seven times bigger in three days while chained?"

"Headmaster Snape!" Headmaster Snape!" Snape focused his attention at the elf in front of him. One of the few perks of being the Headmaster that he took advantage of was to cajole the elves into addressing him with respect. "Yes, Pelly" he answered quickly, embarrassed that an elf, well anybody, would catch him day dreaming. "Wez can clean? Wez can clean now even wif youz here and nots come back later?"

Snape nodded careful not to upset his balance amongst the undulated joy of the elves.

"Pelly? Can you remove my chains, perhaps?" He had little hope, but …

Pelly narrowed her huge round eyes and shook her head no. "These are wiz gov chains. Elves no touch. Itz magic thing." Then inexplicitly, she became very happy. So happy that all the elves in the room stopped cleaning (!) and started waving their ears and butts in dance. In less than one minutes the miracle Snape needed arrived when Winky popped into his quarters holding what had to be the smallest elf child in the world.

"This is Obby, Dobby's Daughter." she said in a squeaky whisper. "She iz free elf borns to free elves. She is not a proper elf, but Shes can do anything!" Pelly had given Winky a frown when she implied that Obby was not perfect in every way. Pelly then took Obby's hand and said "Obby – Play time. Pretendes that youz are the top Hogwarts elf and that Head masty Monk needz his bath and wants youz to get him ready!" And suddenly Snape was in his private bathroom in his pristine and beloved dungeon quarters, chainless and near weeping for joy. He was also naked and bald, but those really were small picky details. If Obby was slytherin, he would have given her an 'O'.

Five minutes later, Snape really was in the bath scrubbing mightily. Forty minutes after that he was having a bland restorative diner by the fire dressed in a clean, soft, warm robe and his second set of clean underwear in a day. And nobody in the British Isles was feeling as blessed.

...ooOo0oOoo…

**Authors Note:**

* I have already written a few more chapters, but it still takes time to edit them one last time and post.

* I would love a beta for obvious reasons.

* I just wanted to let people know that I do have this story plotted to the end. Ok, I'm a little confused about the middle, but I'm sure that will work out.


	4. Chapter 4:  The Ginger Boa

I own no part of Rowling's characters/universe/etc.

...ooOo0oOoo…

**Severus Snape's Predictably Inexplicable Trial**

Chapter 4: The Ginger Boa

...ooOo0oOoo…

Almost every child that came through Hogwarts gave their Head of House a gift for Winter Solstice. Minerva and Sprout were generally lucky enough to get some kind of liquor. But for Filius and Severus, almost all of the gifts were some kind of spelled statuary. All of Snape's were statue of snakes and most of them were spelled with some kind of protection spell. Quite of few of them were cursed, which he never could understand. At least 50 of them helped him spy on his students, which made them an odd gift from a student. A few were to spy on him, which at least made sense. And then there were some interesting ones. Like the one that dispensed poison if you 'milked' its fangs like a real snake. Similar was one that shot poison darts out it eyes on command. Or the one that made anybody in a twenty foot radius more beautiful. His all-time favorite statue was of a glowing ghostly moon asp would increase a wizard's concentration levels while it was being held.

All together there were approximately 1,860 charmed snakes now in Snape's living room on rather special shelves that reached from floor to the vaulted ceiling. He had put the rest in storage with the elves with a promise to sort through them someday. Horace Slughorn had taken the statues from the "best" family with him when he left, but Snape thought there probably many hidden gems just waiting to be found. Sometimes, late at night, he would hear the snake statues reciting poetry to each other so he knew he was right but he could never quite track down which statues were talking.

At exactly three hours and one minute after he was tossed into his rooms, Snape calmly walked to his gift snake shelves and removed the one big fat 'Notice-me-not' spell. He grabbed the iridescent blue statue of a viper in mid strike. This statue projected images of all the beings, muggle or magical, in up to a half mile radius. Take that Alastair Moody! His eye could only do a few hundred feet. Snape made sure that the only people near his quarters were the two cruel guards. He checked the power levels on the spelled snake head and then put the snake in guardian and projection mode so he couldn't be surprised.

He had hoped he would have visitors by now. He was irrationally disappointed that Minerva wasn't in her office. The Ministry must have been astute enough to empty the castle so that none could aid him. He thought that Hermione, as his legal representative, would have come, but it was dangerous to wait any longer.

He reverently retrieved the most magically powerful magical object in the whole collection, if not in all of Hogwarts. He couldn't help but caress the orange and yellow ginger boa as he gently lifted it down and also placed it on to the table. This was a real snake that had been suspended in time and tenderly coiled into a 1 x 1 square. This statue was a little different; this one had been a gift from Voldemort to congratulate him on brewing his first seriously dark poison. Voldemort had used it to pollute the water supply of a mid-sized muggle village. Luckily, the poison was diluted enough so that it didn't kill anybody but it did make practically the whole village sick. Very, very sick for several weeks. Voldemort couldn't' have been more pleased. Ok, thousands of dying muggles would have caused the Dark Lord more pleasure, but the sickness was bad enough for this to be seen as enough of a victory so that Snape wasn't tortured.

The Dark Lord had explained that the real complex dark poisons, i.e. those developed by Salazar Slytherin, required the ability to travel back in time. One person could not stir and add the ingredients needed in the cadences required and two people's magical auras would ruin the potion. He said "Simply tap the snake's head with your wand for every hour you want to go back. Every time you use it the snake it will become a little younger, a little smaller, a little more immature until it becomes a leather egg and then disappears all together. Use it wisely and if your potions glorify me enough I will give you another time snake when I think it is needed." This had still been during the time when the Dark Lord had thought it politic to be kind to his young follower.

Snape and Albus had spent months meticulously going scale by scale over the Ginger Boa until they decided for once Voldemort wasn't lying. They also figured out that it had to be proprietary Slytherin Family Enchantments, because neither of them could begin to replicate the magic. But the serpent did work just as the Dark Lord said and Snape learned that when people said he was a hard person to be around they were right.

"Thump, thump, thump. And thump, thump, thump." Snape recited as tapped his wand on the snake's. He had decided just to do a small jump back in time so he could test that the Ginger Boa still worked. At first nothing seemed different until he glanced at the hissing Parameter Alarm Snake and saw a group of people outside his secret back door. One of those people had to be Minerva because nobody else knew that he had a back door and certainly not where it was. Heck, he wasn't even sure he remembered where it came out.

"Clever of the witch to be there three hours before I arrive and trust I have a time turner" he muttered. He centered himself, pointed his wand at the center of the Gift Snake Shelves and whispered the word "Confringo" as his wand looped from left to right and up to down. The resulting fireball soared towards the shelves and then there were several small explosions. The shelves groaned and cracked and started splitting into two. Many of the poetry speaking snakes exposed themselves by cursing inventively. But slowly a set of stairs was somehow squeezed into the middle of the shelves running along the now exposed wall.

Snape smiled.

He hadn't tested that ward more than once. He had figured that first you ward the shelves against the blasting curse. Secondly you use a few un-warded vice grips and blocks to squeeze the top and bottom halves of the shelves together. And then one small counter-intuitive curse and BLAM, you have yourself some hidden stairs that the ward breakers probably wouldn't spot.

Snape ran up the new stairs and started to quickly remove his wards from the exit. Five minutes later he opened the door to see the back of the statue of Sacharissa Tugwood (proprietor of breakthrough beautifying potions. The words on her gravestone read, 'Thanks to Sacharissa Tugwood, the world is a more beautiful place.) But more importantly he saw the worried faces of Minerva, Fillias, Hermione, Harry, Miss Lovegood and a very pale looking George Weasley.

"Come in then" Snape whispered with a huge grin, well huge for him, because it is not every day that anybody went out on a limb for anybody else, especially not Gryffindors reaching out to the 'Greasy Git' persona that was crafted so many years before. Understandably, it took the crowd of criminal aiders a few minutes to get moving again after their shock of seeing Snape with a smile. Or perhaps it was because he was also still sprouting Obbie's accidental hair removal magic that through them for a loop.

Snape met George's eyes and started, but quickly aborted, physically reaching out to him. George looked like he was surrounded by a super charged atmospheric charm (numbis horribilis) and shield charm (protego horribilis) that had combined in a darkly mutated way. Snape recoiled in his mind and decided that seeing a Weasley Twin without an aura of playfulness was somehow one of the worst things he had ever perceived and his bucket list 'Severus Snape's Worst Things to See' was a mighty one. Snape knew he couldn't really comprehend the horrific damages of the war, but looking at George, he could begin to touch an icy slice of never ending emptiness.

Of course Miss Lovegood was the one to get the ball rolling. She looked him sharply in the eye. "You have the largest plague of Nargles and Whackspurs that I have ever seen. You even have a Seapire. You need to bathe in wojigunen acidum, sir." Then she saw the shelves of Snake Sculptures and her eyes unfocused and she stopped paying so much attention to the people in the room. There were a few uncomfortable twitters from the others in the room (including 2 of the snake sculptures). Snape motioned for those who wanted to follow him into his lab and started mixing potion base #2 into a very small white caldron.

Snape pointed to a large wall of bookshelves. "Miss Granger, would you be as kind as to see if you can find a reference to Seapires?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. "What?" she chirped. "You can't tell me you honestly believe her."

Fillias spoke up for the first time. "It was the Headmaster opinion that Miss Lovegood has the gift of being able to 'see' magic'. We believe that she relates to magic as if it were long strands of string. She may someday be able to manipulate it directly, almost as if she is combing very long hair. This is actually a common framework to use to influence magic, especially in several Intuit philosophies. Most people similarly talented feel it is their life's quest to keep the strands smooth, however Luna has yet to develop the magic to manipulate these strands and so she does what she can to describe what she sees is wrong."

Luna's most airy voice came from the Snake Statue Room. "Ohhh. A Bezirolf!"

Minerva continued with half a sad smile "We believe that it is painful and jarring for her to be anywhere near where there are problems in the magical flow. But since Voldemort's rise, magic is a little stressed just about everywhere in the magical world hence why Luna keeps what distance she can. "

Minerva unbent her posture and relaxed her face the first time. "I remember the day Albus decided that that nargles had to be the equivalent of knots in the flow of magic and that wackspurs were like tight cow licks. Do remember that he purchased himself bright yellow robes with dancing cows to celebrate."

Everybody in the room shuddered because everybody in the room remembered those robes.

Minerva blinked. "Seapires are new though."

Luna's voice floated in from the living room. "Seapires are like clams."

Harry called back, "Hu? Luna, how are clams related to hair care?"

Luna answered, "Exactly!" and started humming again.

Snape's voice was sad. "Occlumency will minimally be required for Miss Lovegood to master combing magical hairs. Albus and I have looked for many ways to teach Miss Lovegood enough to calm the magical people in her environment enough so that nobody will call her 'Loony' again. I started occlumency lessons with Miss Lovegood last year but the Death Eater's in the castle severely limited my movements in this area."

Snape didn't add that he thought Miss Lovegood's ability was blocked because of the pain the snarled magic caused her. Also she witnessed her Mother's explosive demise when she was 9 and then immediately lost her father to his grief. And after that you can add all the abusive bullying she had been subjected all of her Hogwarts years. The months in the Malfoy Dungeon couldn't have helped either. It was a wonder she wasn't known by something like 'The Dark and Dreamy Empress Loony'. Luna's life was almost as tragic as Potter's but almost nobody noticed.

Another tragedy, Snape thought, was that he was the last Master Occlumens alive. Even with the Time Snake Statue there wasn't enough time to teach her what she needed to know. In Azkaban he thought he was ready to die, but every hour since then has made him want to live just a little more. But the SST/Trial was going to be rigged to the maximum and clearly he didn't have enough time to formulate plans to the level they needed to be arranged. He swore to himself that he would take every advantage, no matter how petty, to win his life and freedom.

"Enough!" Snape mumbled. "First things first. I require my hair back." He then pointed his wand straight up and said "uranicus panis" three times.

Harry nudged Hermione. "'Heavenly Bread' and I don't get it either. "

By the third time the empty surface of the work table below where Snape was pointing was glowing. Five seconds after that, a four inch slab of the heavy marble celling smashed down on the table leaving it a mangled mess. Everybody but Snape jerked back 5 meters. Snape smiled inwardly. He could have opened this safe without the huge smash, but what would be the fun in that? "Welcome" he said, "To one of my smaller potions caches."

He was humming as he pulled out the different ingredients he would need for the wojigunen acidum bath. It was a standard treatment given to wizards and witches when their magic was obviously ill but nobody could figure out why their magic was ill. It was a last ditch, strong solution that many wizards hardly survived, but Snape had tweaked the potion's formula and slowly acclimated his body and until it had become part of his spring ritual.

May Day or Beltane focused was when he focused on cleansing all dark or external influences from his system. It was a combination of baths and rituals. The toughest ritual was when he built four huge fire pyres from magical wood and danced naked between them for at least 7 hours. He had found a glade deep in the spider territory of the Forbidden Forest to set this up so that he could be confident that nobody would stumble upon the scene. Even a wojigunen acidum bath felt good after becoming that singed and tired. But this year Voldemort had required his presence and so Snape had missed celebrating and had been feeling rather magically clogged since.

Fillias clapped his hands and was the first to speak up. "I did not think I would ever live to see you smile or hum, Severus."

"Ah." Professor Snape's cultured, clipped accent was back. "I shall endeavor to live long enough for you to see it again." Snape was then surprised by the high level of distress he could plainly see all on the faces around him and stuttered as he tried to explain himself for once in his life. "I have never allowed anybody, not even Albus, into a position …"

Potter interrupted him hotly. "I knew it; I knew we would have to fight you. Well Snape, we don't care what you say, you are accepting our help!"

"Professor Snape" corrected Hermione automatically.

"If you are here, you may call me 'Severus'" said a voice that was much shakier than its owner would ever have admitted.

Snape cleared his voice and went on. "Your assistance is acceptable. Even welcomed, though I doubt I will be able to express my gratitude about it eloquently enough to be understood. I have decided to turn over a new leaf. The days of my living in shadows are gone. The 'Greasy Git' must die. The Auror version of the SST is also known as the Gryffindor's or Hero's version and I will clearly require copious amounts help from all of you."

Snape met each of their eyes with what was obviously supposed to be a warm smile on his face.

It took the group to gather his wits after this, especially with Luna still visiting with the Snake Statues. Finally it was George Weasley who gathered his wits first and with a half-shudder said "Hey, about that smiling thing. Um. Um. Know a good a teeth whiting potion? "

...ooOo0oOoo…


End file.
